


Nihtgale

by btslesbian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coping, High School, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Slice of Life, Vent Piece, somewhat happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 08:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btslesbian/pseuds/btslesbian
Summary: It can be difficult to keep up with the monotonous rhythm of everyday life, but even the littlest things are worth living for, as Nightingale discovers.





	Nihtgale

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a way to kind of cope with my own internal struggles as I find myself constantly overthinking and feeling insecure. I hope others can find comfort in knowing that even the littlest things are often worth living for :-)
> 
> (Also there's an explanation for the title in the end notes!)

Daytime was monotonous in the eyes of Nightingale. She woke up every morning at six to a dark room with star-printed curtains, a dusty blanket suffocating her, and the frigid cold immobilizing her body. She hesitantly dragged her feet to the closet as though heavy chains were hindering her movements. She tossed her white blouse on, smoothing out all the wrinkles and taking care not to fold her sleeves. In order to even out the dullness of her gray skirt, she never left it unfolded twice until her waist. As if moving on instinct, she tied her necktie without looking at it. She then put on her royal blue blazer and tied her hair into a convenient yet neat half ponytail that she slathered with gel to keep it in place. Then she was ready to leave until she realized she forgot a tiny detail: lip tint. With a smack of her lips and an egotistical smirk, she finished applying the crimson tint on her lips and nodded to her reflection in the mirror out of satisfaction. If she had to haul herself to school everyday, she thought, she might as well pay attention to the superficial aspects and present herself as the genki girl* everyone expected her to at least look like if not act like it.

With a huff, she slung her backpack on her shoulder and exited the dimly lit apartment. Her fingers worked with haste to untangle the mess of black chords while she walked to the train station. Halfway there, she finally put her earphones in and played the song she felt suited her mood. With a light tilt of her lips, she began humming the tune as she lightheartedly followed the beat with each footstep. Upon arriving at the train station, she climbed up the stairs with bouncy steps, almost as though she was skipping, and continued until she reached the platform. With a rush of wind, the train arrived, yet only one or two passengers left the inside of the train that looked more like a can of packed sardines. She sighed and pushed her way in the train in resignation. On the bright side, her train ride was a grand one hour, so she had a lot of time to enjoy her music in peace until she got to school.

Eventually, she arrived at school about twenty minutes before the first class started. Like other days when she wanted to find time for herself, she isolated herself in the classroom on the second floor before everyone arrived. Going to the fifth floor to put all her things there when she was going to go back later was a waste of time, and her first class on Wednesday was on the second floor anyways, she reasoned with herself. She stretched her limbs and let her school bag down on the chair with a grunt. With her earphones still in place, she took a nap until her four other classmates arrived. For the rest of the day, she ran on autopilot as she took out her earphones. That isn’t to say she didn’t enjoy the company of her friends; on the contrary, she most certainly did. However, she craved some much needed solitude from time to time, and it wasn’t very easy to come by.

Once it was four in the afternoon, everyone was allowed to go home except for the students assigned to clean various areas of the school for the day. However, Nightingale preferred to do her homework in the classroom because there were very few people left after school there. It was also much easier to focus compared to being at home because the claustrophobia-inducing room was bound to remind her of how difficult it was to do her work when she felt lonely. Being alone and feeling lonely were two different things for Nightingale, and she much preferred the former.

Whenever she was at home, she felt strangled by the loneliness that surrounded her. Although she loved her family, it was very easy to remember she left plenty of things when she moved away. She couldn’t help but remember the friends she left behind and how their lives were branching out into different paths. She knew it would only be a matter of time until some of them barely had enough time to talk to one another, which was something she preferred not to ponder on. It didn’t help that her room was rather small either because it almost felt like it was closing in on her whenever she couldn’t help but let out a few tears because the loneliness and fear of abandonment never failed to come back.

However, after the last person left the classroom, Nightingale bolted to the canteen area. Like she expected, it was devoid of people. Multiple tables and chairs sat in the spacious completely white area. A light breeze came from the still open windows as she took a chair, sat down, and watched the sun set. Although it was only four and a half in the afternoon, the sun set very early during winter. It was her favorite way to calm down after a day of prolonged sitting idly in a chair, listening to the teacher ramble about facts that she was expected to stuff into her brain, and exchanging answers with her classmates for the drill they were working on. She didn’t fuss about whether her lip tint was still on, nor did she care to fix any stray strands that stood out as time passed. She was bare and untidy, yet it was not of concern to her at all.

Once the sun set, darkness set in and the temperature dropped drastically, but it didn’t faze her at all. In fact, she welcomed it like an old friend as she stood in the well lit canteen with an expecting smile on her face, arms outstretched as if she was preparing for something, and her chest puffed out. It was so uncharacteristic for Nightingale to appear so fervent at school. While her boisterous laughter upon hearing a joke was nothing out of the ordinary, her enthusiastic mien rarely made an appearance. It was the passion inscribed on her face, the way her stature radiated discipline, and the curve of her lips screamed paradise; it was what she kept hidden during the monotonous daytime and what made Nightingale’s nights so colorful.

Finally, a soft melody wafted through the air. The dulcet tone bounced off the pristine white walls as it created the illusion of an angel singing on her own. Nightingale was singing the song she listened to that morning. It was moments like this that made her treasure the time she had all to herself. For her, singing was not just producing a sound pleasurable to the listener’s ears. No, it was how she healed and rejuvenated herself after picking herself up multiple times throughout the day. It served as a way for her to forget the fact that she feared being left alone because despite saying farewell to her first home, she never forgot to take singing with her. It was almost as if the only proof of her existence was her voice, for she appeared to be wholly enraptured by the euphoria singing brought her.

However, time flew by in the blink of an eye, and it was quarter to six in the evening. She had to leave school grounds before she got caught unless she wanted to receive a penalty. After she gathered all her things and picked up her school bag, she rushed down the stairs and looked out for any teachers that might spot her. Once she thought the coast was clear on the ground floor, she rushed out the school gates and almost squealed from the thrill of sneaking out of school after doing something she wasn’t allowed to do. However, it wasn’t like it was her first time breaking said rule.

Like always, she untangled her earphones and hopped in the overcrowded train. However, unlike morning, she seemed more relaxed with a content smile resting on her face. Perhaps it was because she made it through another day, finished her homework, and wouldn’t have to worry about it once she got home. Regardless of what the reason may be, she didn’t seem to drag her feet, nor did she seem to dread what she had to face for the day. She simply hummed the song she was previously singing at school and singing earlier that morning like she couldn’t get enough of it. 

Once she finally arrived home at seven o’clock, she greeted her mother with a kiss and the evening carried on its usual routine. She helped her sister do her homework, ate dinner, washed the dishes, and shared stories with her family in the master bedroom. Of course, she had music in the background while she was attending to some of those activities to liven it up even just a little bit. Finally, at the end of the day, she retreated to her shared room with her little sister, said goodnight, and fell asleep feeling lighter than how she woke up that morning.

The next day begins, and her eyes open. Nightingale functions on autopilot as she carefully put her uniform on like always. Of course, she never forgets to fold her skirt. The dark red lip tint settled on her lips as she tied her hair into its usual half ponytail before she applied gel onto the hair strands held in place by her nearly worn out hair tie. Despite knowing everything will fall out of place by evening, she preferred to keep up with appearances and cleaned herself up quite nicely. With her bag in hand, leather loafers slipped on, and her train pass in hand, she was ready to leave. Another monotonous day meant another night to fill with color, she thought, and she stepped out of the apartment with that in mind.

**Author's Note:**

> genki girl* - an energetic character (usually a school girl) that is often depicted as constantly speaking fast, waving or flailing her arms around, and acting in a generally comedic manner
> 
> Explanation for the title:
> 
> Nihtgale is the Old English form of Nightingale, which means "night songstress." I originally named this piece "Nightingale," but I felt more inclined to use the the Old English form for whatever reason haha. 
> 
> Anyways, I refer to the MC as "Nightingale" even though that's not actually her name. I just refer to her as such for the sake of foreshadowing in a way because even though common nightingales sing at night as well as during the day, it's much more noticeable at night because there are fewer other birds singing. Interestingly, they also sing more loudly in urban or near-urban areas in order to overcome the typical background noise of the city. 
> 
> Does any of that sound familiar? The MC sang at night when there was virtually nobody, and she also sang in order to sort of blur out what was going on in her life. That's why I named her such.
> 
> Anyways! Thank you for reading this piece, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
